


Sir Yes Sir

by UnrealRomance



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Civilian To Trooper, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2018-06-02 20:24:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 17,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6580921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnrealRomance/pseuds/UnrealRomance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I didn’t want any part of the war.</p><p>A civil war between Separatists and the Republic military who were backing the government. Or the other way around, I can never remember. It has nothing to do with me, but it affects every aspect of my life.</p><p>....</p><p>Miri's a Civilian and she doesn't want to fight. But things happen--her life changes and she has to roll with the punches or be flattened beneath the tide.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

I didn't want any part of the war.

A civil war between Separatists and the Republic military who were backing the government. Or the other way around, I can never remember. It has nothing to do with me, but it affects every aspect of my life.

I live in an abandoned house on the edge of the 'safe' zone with about ten kids. I picked them all up, one after another, as the war went on. I just wanted to keep them safe till they were grown up. Figured that could be my legacy, actually helping some kids who needed it...

"Miri, Miri!" Lyalla runs up to me with tears in her bright yellow eyes. "Morro won't give back my doll!"

"Tell him if he keeps it, it means he's not getting any extra helpings tonight." I'm not heartless enough to deny a kid dinner, but I _can_ give his extra shares to everyone else.

She runs back out, vibrant red Lekku twitching as she screams for Morro and tells him what I said. I'm gratified when I hear silence not long after. Lyalla's probably gone off to her tree to sit and stew.

Morro, I can see walk past the window, looking stormy- fur bristling. He's gotten into a mean streak lately, and when that happens- you need to crack down. If I let him walk all over me, he'll get worse.

I don't know much about raising kids to begin with, I know even less about raising boys- and basically all my kids here are aliens. But I do know about discipline and respect. If a kid doesn't have both, they get fucked up. Badly.

Morro's Cathar, Lyalla's Twi'lek, I've got a couple Zabrak, a Chiss- no one wanted to take the Chiss kid, go figure. Even a Togruta and three Mirialans.

Plus a Rattataki, if he shows up again. That kid is never sitting still and seems to disappear for weeks at a time. I always go looking for him, and never find him. I have to wait for him to come to me.

None of them are human, like me- so I don't know what cultures they come from, or what religions they should have...I just feed them, raise them, and protect them. That's it. Whoever they become when they leave here, it will be entirely up to them.

"Miss Miri?" The Chiss, Tiarra. She's very polite, and only ever asks for things when it's important, so I try to pay attention when she talks.

"What's the matter, Tiarra?" I strap the arm-guards to my armor set on and attach my vibrosword to my back. Thank the stars for Soldiers and Separatists with soft hearts and feeble minds or I wouldn't have-or know how to use-any of it.

"There's a lot of noise on the Republic side of the lines..." She turns and tilts her head at the window. "They're getting closer!"

I'm used to the kids knowing before me when the Republic is attacking the Separatists. Their senses are sharper and more acute than mine.

"Go get the other kids inside. I'll get Lyalla out of her tree." I'll have to stay with them till the attack is over, which will cut down on any hunting or foraging I might be able to do- but hey, better than dead kids.

My cynicism and sarcasm depress me sometimes. Just a little. Which only makes them worse.

I step out the front door with Tiarra, and she rushes off to find everyone around the yard, though most of them are already heading for the house.

Lyalla has her hands over her conical ears, grimacing, up in her tree.

"Lyalla!" I snap. "Get out of that tree and into the house!"

"It's loud!" She wails and curls into a ball.

I huff and scramble as well as I can up the tree to her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her down with me. She stuffs half her head into the curve between my neck and shoulder to muffle the sound, free hand clenching in the straps on the back of my armor.

Setting foot on even ground again, I walk over to the house and set Lyalla down inside the front door. "Get into the basement with everyone else-"

" _MISS MIRI!_ " Tiarra's stark terror is enough to whirl me around, but the volume is what really worries me. Tiarra _never_ shouts.

The tiny Chiss is down behind some cover, waving her little blue hand at me- and when she sees that I see _her_ , she points.

One of my Zabrak kids, little Fweega. She's trying to pull Tormo behind her. The Rattataki boy. She's a little sweet on him, but I didn't think she'd be this stupid!

I take off, toeing the ground and sending up plumes of dust as I go. _'It's too late, I can hear the blaster fire!'_

By the time _I_ can hear the fight, it's too close.

Fweega is shrieking at Tormo to 'just come back to the house-it's _safe_ there!' when I see the first Republic soldier walk out into the open, and a Separatist mirrors him on the other side.

"Tiarra go!" I pass her on my way and hope to god she's listening.

In the open area where my kids are fighting each other- Tormo wants to run off on his own which is safer-Fweega wants him to come with her and keeps yanking no matter how many times he hits her or tries pushing her away- Separatists and Republic Soldiers are shooting.

There are blaster shots going in every direction, vibroblades humming on all sides and just as I reach my kids, there's the rat-a-tat-tat of one of those giant-ass fucking miniguns.

So I grab Tormo and Fweega by the back of their clothes and yank them into my body, wrapping my arms around them and sprinting back the way I'd come- curled around them but not nearly enough to protect them if someone has spectacularly bad aim.

There's a natural ridge right before the house, it affords us some protection from this bullshit- if I can just reach it-!

I hear the rat-a-tat-tat a second too late, and it's too close.

As my hands clench in Fweega and Tormo's clothes, I turn my head. There's a Republic soldier there, Mirialan- with a panicked look on his face. He isn't even holding the trigger anymore, probably- but there's a certain amount of shots it _has_ to take...and his sudden jerk is sending them sailing straight toward us.

It all happens so fast, I only have a moment to react, just a second to rip them away from me and send them flying away from my body, toward the ridge, toward the house- before the bullets tear through my arms, shoulder and side.

' _Is this what it feels like to die?'_


	2. Chapter 2

A med-center.

I curl my lip at the Republic symbol in the front of the building, hanging on a sign so everyone inside who's just waking up, will see it.

' _This is all your fault.'_ I tell that sign. _'You damn Republic assholes and the fucking Separatists!'_

Turning my back on the sign, I sit down next to Fweega's cot. My injuries twinge on the way down and I flinch, easing my path with a firm grip on the armrests of the chair. My arms burn, but it's not as bad as the pain could be, and if I tear the stitches in my side, I could lose more than blood.

I wasn't fast enough. Fweega got injured. She got shot across her face. It wasn't fatal, but she needed cybernetics to correct for the loss of sensitivity and to help her damn eye work.

They keep trying to come in here and talk to me. I told them until they could find someone of higher rank than 'grunt' or 'executive grunt' I won't be speaking at all. Still they kept coming in, and after one glare in their direction after they introduced themselves- they left.

Well, most of them. There was one or two irritating idiots who kept trying to engage me, and got a little too close. I dropped one of them with a knee to the stomach, and all I had to do for the other was stand tall and grab the hilt of my vibrosword.

Fweega is still in a medically induced coma. She should wake up in a couple hours once the drugs from her surgery wear off.

They keep talking like we were injured by Separatists. Which means the asshole who shot me and Fweega? Didn't own up. So now I have to wait till a higher-up gets his ass over here and report the fuck-up to him. One thing different between the Seps and the Republic grunts- they actually get punished for hurting people most of the time in the Republic ranks.

If they don't, I _will_. If there are kids on the field, you should watch your fire. If you don't, you deserve whatever pain I can give you.

"You wanted to speak to me." How did I miss the footsteps?

I glance up and resign myself to never hearing this guy walk into a room. He's a Cathar and by the rifle on his back, a Sniper. A Cathar's natural grace and coordination coupled with Sniper training? Yeah, silent death.

Even his armor, dark brown and black camouflage- it's thick, leather with panels of some...something- but it sticks close to his body and looks pretty damn flexible. Though his orange fur makes his head and throat stand out like a sore thumb. There's a helmet under one of his arms, so I guess they're not _that_ stupid in the Republic.

"Are you ranked above the grunts?" I peer up into his yellow-green eyes and clench my hands on my knees.

"You've sent back all the sergeants. I'm a lieutenant." He huffs and shakes his head. "Something you want to tell me?"

"We were shot by a Republic soldier, not a Separatist." I inform him.

His expression doesn't change. "You're absolutely sure?"

"I looked him in the face as he shot us. A Mirialan with four diamonds tattooed on each of his cheeks. He didn't mean to, but he didn't own up. Are you going to do something about it?" I ask.

I won't look away. If he wants to bullshit or call me a liar, he'll have to do it while looking me in the eye.

He doesn't say anything. Just stares into my eyes for a few long moments, then turns on his heel and walks out.

So, nothing then. I take a deep inhale through my nose. "Knew I was wasting my time."

Fweega is fine, just unconscious, so I was just waiting around for the bossiest boss I could find to get here before carrying her out.

It's painful, the pulling on my stitches-but I manage to get Fweega into my arms, pick up the kolto the doctor says I need, and get out before anyone can try to talk me out of going.

It's less safe at a Republic base than our broken-down house and that's saying something. I can't leave my kids all alone any longer. They had dinner for last night, but who knows if they even know what rationing _is_? I tried to teach them about all the things they'd need to know to survive, but rationing has never sunk in. No matter how much I do it to keep them all alive.

It's a long walk, but I feel at least halfway protected, since my armor and weapon were both kept for me. I'm wearing them regardless of medical advice- no matter how much they rub my stitches, it's worth knowing a stray shot might not hit me full on in the meat.

' _My armor shredded when that minigun hit me. I need to avoid those.'_ Like I wasn't trying to avoid them before. Like I wasn't trying to avoid all _kinds_ of guns before. My armor is just junk, but I have no way to get anything better.

The long walk is over before I realize it, and it worries me for a moment that I might be spacing out without noticing anything around me.

So I walk into the house, and call out the passphrase. "Clear Skies Before The Rain." Which basically means, it's clear now- but the situation might change. It's a little wordy, but the phrase itself makes the kids think when they hear it. They never just come running out.

The door to the basement opens in the living room floor. Tormo is the first to peek his head out, and he jumps out to help me with Fweega.

We set her up against the wall in her usual spot. They're not beds, but bed _rolls_. Anything is better than the floor, I figured. I myself sleep on a blanket covered bench, not even nearly as padded as the bedrolls. Easier to wake at the drop of a hat if you're uncomfortable.

"Is Fweega okay?" Tiarra clings to my leg as she looks Fweega over with her vibrant crimson eyes. "Why isn't she waking up?"

"She's still got some medication making her sleepy." I explain. "But as soon as she wakes up in a couple of hours, she'll be fine."

A string of tension snaps in the room. I can tell, because that's when the crying starts.

Tiarra, Lyalla, Tormo, even Morro- all my kids are bawling their heads off now. Tormo's the one that kind of surprises me, I mean- Morro will show off emotion all the time, but Tormo has never seemed to break from stony and passive.

So I sigh, sit on the floor, and pull them all down next to me on all sides. Tormo in my lap, Tiarra hanging onto my left arm, Lyalla with her head on my knee... All my other kids squishing up against my back, tiny hands curling in my armor straps.

You have to let kids get out their feelings, even if it devolves into screaming. If you don't, it screws up their emotional maturity. I know that. I also know my pain doesn't matter when they're afraid. If I'm strong, they can recover and feel safe. If I'm not, they either stand on their own or break. Either way, it's just better if I sit here and wait.

It's about six hours before Fweega wakes up, and by that time the kids have all cried themselves to sleep. Except Tormo, who keeps glancing over to check on her every few minutes, eyelids heavy.

I had to get up and check on our rations, and I managed to find enough for everyone not to go _completely_ hungry tonight...

"Miss Miri." Tormo whispers, and I look up.

Fweega is blinking and trying to sit up. Tormo is muttering reassuring words to her, trying to get her to lie back down. She isn't having any of it, and instead seems to be shoving Tormo away and trying to croak at him to 'get away from me, stupid'.

Rolling my eyes and cracking my back, I get up and walk over to her bedroll, stepping over the other kids and being careful not to nudge any of them with my feet. "Fweega, relax."

She blinks her big brown eyes at me as I settle next to her. "Miss Meeri? I thought...I saw..." Her chin wobbles and her eyes fill with tears.

"It's alright, Fweega." I reach out to pat her head, she has no horns in the back so I have to touch there or prick myself. "The Republic soldiers took us to their medics. I just had to get us out of there, because Separatists could attack any minute." I shrug and sigh, pulling her into my lap when she starts crying. "You're fine. I'm fine. Relax, just breathe."

Tormo curls up next to my side and I resign myself to sleeping in a pile tonight. When the kids wake up and want food, we'll eat. As for now?

I wonder if I _can_ sleep with all the pain, deep in my bones.


	3. Chapter 3

"What the hell..." I stop beyond the boundary of the house and growl. "Son of a bitch."

I've been hunting all morning, looking to find something to smoke and put up for a while so I can just heal for a couple days. Now, I come back to the house with a bunch of small mammals and even a Mantellian Flutterplume that I can pluck for its feathers to sell- and there are Republic Soldiers standing outside my house, talking to my kids!

That sniper, that Cathar- he's sitting on my front porch, talking to Morro. There are two others. A female Mirialan and a male Human Cyborg.

My Mirialan triplets are all ringed around the female, and Fweega is listening to something the Cyborg is saying- and- alright fine. So they might benefit from some exposure to people like them, their own species, and Fweega needs some pointers from someone else with implants- I admit that.

But they couldn't wait till I was around to ask my _permission_ to fuck around with my kids?

"Get in the house." I don't have to raise my voice. They could probably all hear me approach, though they usually pay no mind to my mild footsteps.

They go. They're reluctant and keep throwing glances back, but they go.

As soon as they're inside, I jerk my head at the ridge and walk around it, dropping my kills right on the inside so no one sees them from the outside.

The Cathar is the only one who follows me, I notice. The Mirialan and the Cyborg both hang back and take up positions on either side of the house. Watching, hands on their weapons.

It makes my teeth grind.

I whip around when we're out of earshot, I've measured before to be sure- then added a couple feet onto it because come on, kids'll lie when they think they can get away with it and trip you up. It's part of the reason you've gotta be so on top of 'em all the time.

"You have no right. No right!" I point back the way we came and ignore the surprise on his face. "Those are _my_ kids, you want to talk to them, you ask _me_."

"I understand." He's once more the stoic jackass he was in the med-center. "We didn't mean to intrude, ma'am. We came looking for you, and the kids were outside."

And even though I've _told_ the kids not to talk to strangers- "You said you were looking for me, so they thought you were okay-fuck." I pace a little. "I'm going to have to be more specific- _again_ \- about talking to strangers!"

"I thought you'd want to know we found the Soldier who shot you and..." He pauses. "I read the name in the file but I can't remember- the Zabrak child with you?"

"Fweega." I twist my mouth up to one side and face him. "So you found him. What happens now?"

"He's been disciplined." He tilts his head and searches my face as he talks. "He's been demoted, and there's a pending hearing. I needed to tell you, I need a report on the events in as much detail as you can remember- then I won't have to bother you or your kids anymore- but you left the med-center before I could get to you with the paperwork."

"I have _nine_ other kids, besides Fweega." I plant my feet and cross my arms. "I couldn't just leave them alone here without food or water or anyone to protect them. And you said _nothing_ to me before you left."

He sighs, eyes closing for a moment before opening again. "You're right. I take it for granted that everyone knows how the regs work. Even the refugees living around the base seem to get the gist of it, usually."

"Which of course means they've lodged thousands of complaints and have probably gotten nowhere with them." I point out. "I'm not gonna say I dislike the Republic, because that would make you think I'm a Separatist or at least a sympathizer, and I'm not." I slice my hand through the air. "I think you're _both_ at fault here, and I want to avoid _all_ of you."

His jaw tightens and for all of two seconds, I think he's about to yell at me. Then he takes a deep breath and dips his head in a slow nod. "I can understand that. I believe in the Republic, but I...see the trouble this has caused for you and yours."

"It isn't about believing in something or who's right." I snort. "Separatists aren't villains, they're just people who live here and want to be free to govern themselves. The Republic want to lay claim to a place where the people don't want them- this is invasion if anyone else does it." I toss my hand up. "They do abominable things because they're fighting for freedom, or at least-they think they are. Your very presence makes them feel oppressed."

"We don't _oppress_ anyone." There's some bite in that sentence, and I can see the fangs in his mouth when he says it. "We help the people here more than the Separatists-"

"Who cares who you help if you get everyone killed in the crossfire!?" I point at the house. "I have to hide these kids and bunk them down at least once a week because there are blasters firing in every direction- we were shot by a Republic Soldier, remember that? Accident or not, it happened."

His lips are pressed into a thin line. "We have rights to be here."

"So do they." I wrinkle my nose at him. "If the Republic could just back out of Ord Mantell, try to renegotiate terms- something other than trying to kill all the Separatists- you might end this conflict. But no. That would be backing down, wouldn't it?" I lean back on my right leg and cross my arms again. "And your national pride is more important than all our lives."

His entire body moves in a half-turn away from me and a his first two fingers go up next to his ear. Comm implant. "Wraith, Needles- we're going."

The Mirialan and the Cyborg both walk out and follow the Cathar as he leaves. The Cyborg is unaffected by anything, it seems- but the Mirialan is giving me a look. Neither glare nor smile, just...considering. It makes my skin crawl.


	4. Chapter 4

I divide my time between cleaning and gutting my kills, smoking their meat, plucking the feathers off my one Mantellian Flutterplume- and watching for Republic soldiers.

It's not like I think the guy'd come back to roust me out or something just because I disagreed with him. But hell, I barely spoke to the guy, what do I know about him?

I explain to the kids, one more time- not to talk to strangers. Even if they're looking for me, or say they know me. A few of them ask why we can't just trust the Republic, since they helped me and Fweega when we got shot. I actually had to explain that they were the ones who shot us in the first place. I was really hoping I wouldn't have to explain that.

Having them hate the Republic would only convince them that somehow the Separatists are better. So I have to explain that the two sides are basically the same, over and over-all day long. To everyone. Sometimes multiple times with different words when they don't get what I'm trying to say.

The next day is much the same. Endless questions and curiosity. Eventually I'll have to expose them to both sides or they'll demonize or romanticize them. Either way is bad.

It's quite a surprise when my triplets run into the house to tell me: "Miss Miri, the lady from yesterday is back!" Said to me in excitement, rather than any kind of fear or nervousness. Ugh. Kids are too friendly. You have to scare them to make them understand and I'm just not that sadistic.

I get up and walk to the doorway, blocking the view of my kids as they crowd around me. They all came in the house like they're supposed to, but they haven't headed for the cellar and they're clustering around me in the doorway. "Everyone stay away from the door. We've talked about this."

The walls might be falling apart, but at least they'd offer more protection from blaster bolts than an open doorway.

The Mirialan with dark hair and bright eyes. She's standing at the boundary of the house. Right next to the ridge between open ground and the yard. "Might I speak with you?"

"Stay there, I'll come to you." I turn around as I step out and address the kids. "If you hear blaster fire, you know what to do. Do not, under any circumstances- come out here if you hear blaster fire."

"Yes Miss Miri." They intone together.

Morro is sulking already.

"Go on." I gesture at them and they drift further into the house.

I turn around and walk to her. Hoping this isn't some kind of summons or something. Like them or not, the Republic is technically the law around here.

I stop about five feet away from her and cross my arms, planting my feet. "What?"

"You shouldn't blame Jorgan for what happened." She says, totally confusing me. She sees the confusion on my face and sighs. "The Cathar officer?"

"What am I supposed to be blaming him for?" I respond, as patient as possible. Which isn't much, to be honest.

She furrows her brow. "You getting shot."

"Where did you even get that idea?" I wonder if he sent her here. Then I think, no. He seemed way too uptight for that kind of thing.

"Every time he's tried to speak to you, I've been there." She says. "In the Med-center I was in the doorway when he spoke to you. I was here yesterday...if you don't blame him, why are you so angry when you speak to him?"

I lift an eyebrow. "First of all- because for shooting at me and a kid a guy got demoted but that's probably all that'll happen. Regardless of whatever hearing he'll have to go through. Demoted or discharged." I scoff and shake my head. "He should be made to make reparations at the least, but he won't be made to do anything like that, right?"

She blinks, expressionless. "And second?"

"Second." I say. "None of you even give a fuck, what's the point in even pretending I'm okay with that?"

"What would give you the impression we don't care? The Republic-" She's about to diatribe, with that same damn expression on her face.

"I don't care what the Republic thinks or what it cares about. I don't care about the Republic." I flick my hand. "You and the Cathar- You and Jorgan both have the same fucking expression on your face no matter what I say. At least he showed some anger yesterday when I dared to insult his precious institution." I laugh bitterly. "The absence of expression- on your faces, in your voices- it gives your apathy away."

And then I turn on my heel and walk away from her. Resolving not to think about this anymore, it's just a waste of energy.


	5. Chapter 5

I saved the Kolto. Put it in a box and stored it under a loose floorboard, then moved my bench on top of it.

I showed the kids where it was, in case they needed it- in case I'm not around or I'm unconscious or something. "Just don't touch it unless somebody's dying unless you have my permission." I even asked them to repeat what I said a couple times to make sure they understood.

I was able to teach Morro how to clean and gut some of the small mammals I'd hunted before. He was enthusiastic to learn and happy to be useful, so I figure he's old enough to start learning about hunting things. He's like, what...Eleven? Twelve?

He sat at my knee with Tormo and asked questions and took instruction like a champ. Thank god. I can hardly handle him when he's being low-key and obedient, I shudder to think how hard it'd be if he weren't.

Tormo already knows, somehow. He even fashioned some of the Flutterplume good luck charms I've seen being sold with a few bits of scrap metal wire and fishing line. It's even pretty. Maybe he'll be an artist.

Lyalla's only eight or nine, so she's still got to do the small chores- like putting her toys away and cleaning her bedroll herself. Fweega and Tiarra are eleven or so- they keep the floor in the house clean and add a coat of wax to it when I'm able to buy some. Keeps 'em from getting splinters when they roll out of their 'beds' at night.

Tiarra's a good talker, maybe someday she'll be a diplomat or some kind of lawyer or something.

My Mirialan triplets- Jord, Trell and Wima- are only seven. I'm sure of that age only because they are. They collect the water from some rain barrels we have out back, then Fweega, Tiarra, Tormo or Morro uses the purification process I taught them to make it clean. The triplets are still learning to do the process, but they're picking it up.

I'm pretty sure Trell is taking wayyy too much interest in my vibrosword. I'll teach him when he's old enough to hold a vibroknife, but I'm not gonna be happy about it.

My one Togruta is only six and he doesn't get around much. He didn't have a name when I picked him up, he couldn't remember it, so I call him Jon. It's not a Togruta name, but it's good enough for now. He's a cheerful child, most of the time- but he has his moments of melancholy or bratty-ness, just like the others. He always volunteers to tan the hides of whatever I find.

He's too young to do it himself so I have the older kids do it and let him watch. He's going to be some kind of tanner or taxidermist, mark my words.

Fweega's brother, Freon- he's thirteen. Old enough to be left in charge if you're an idiot.

Freon is a timid boy with kind eyes who likes to take care of his sister, but hates conflict. He barely reacted to Fweega's injuries or mine, until everyone else was finished crying. He didn't break in the same way the other kids did. He rocked slowly on the floor next to Fweega and sobbed silently until he was able to pull himself together.

He did as he was told, and went into the basement. I think he blames himself for not grabbing Fweega first. You can't tell a kid not to take the blame, they have to work it out for themselves. All you can do is show them how to take responsibility for themselves and how to recognize when the responsibility is someone else's.

Still, he's not exactly 'interim boss' material even without this guilt of his. When I go out, I always leave either Tiarra or Morro in charge.

Tiarra's quiet, but she's very by-the-book and she knows what I will and won't allow...usually, anyway. Morro's a little bossy, but he's also a stickler for the rules, in his own way.

Still, what I see when I come back from selling the feather charms is...a little odd.

I lift a brow as I shove my credit receptacle in my pocket. I usually don't put it there when I'm walking around in case of pick-pockets- it's hard to take something when someone is holding it in their hand.

The Cathar- 'Jorgan', is back.

He's sitting outside the ridge, talking to Morro with a fond expression on his face. Morro does not look anywhere near amused, in fact he looks like he's about to scratch the guy's eyes out...but well, that's normal.

So I walk up and stand beside them, waiting for them to be done talking. I'm sure Morro knows I'm here, and that Cathar is probably just ignoring me...

Which is irritating.

Jorgan is explaining something about the Cathar home planet to Morro, and Morro thinks he's lying- is the gist of the conversation.

"I've met Mandalorians." Morro scrunches up his nose. "They were mighty, honorable warriors."

"By their own definition." Jorgan allows, shrugging. He's stiff and obviously irritated about something. "I'm sure the Empire loves their help in conquering planets and running people off of them." Ah. He doesn't like Mandalorians. How surprising.

I lift a brow and settle back on my left leg, crossing my arms.

Morro scoffs. "Like the Republic is doing any different on Ord Mantell." And then Morro turns to glance at me, and spins on his heel to walk back to the house.

'That's my boy.'

"It doesn't seem right." Jorgan says as he watches Morro walk in. "Being so negative toward everyone, having that much respect for bounty hunters and..."

"Negative and neutral is better than raising them to believe something is true- and then they find out it's not- but they can't do anything about it because they know no other way." I say. "What do you want?"

He glances up at me. "That paperwork? I never gave it to you."

"What does it even matter?" I huff. "Nothing's going to happen to him."

"What makes you so sure?" He asks, standing up and dusting off the helmet he picks up from the ground.

"Because this kind of bullshit happens everywhere. They get demoted, or they get discharged. No actual jail time or any kind of real punishment." I turn and walk toward the house. "I told you, because I wanted someone to be aware he tends to shoot people caught in the crossfire. Maybe you'll take notice of some kids running around out there and send him in the opposite direction."

"Why are you so cynical?" Like's he's just asking, lounging against the ridge like he's got nowhere better to be or nothing better to do.

"Why are you so optimistic?" I glance back and narrow my eyes at him. "Just because all you ever see is the Republic helping people doesn't mean that's what's actually happening."

His jaw ticks and-to my surprise- he lets his face show the anger. "It doesn't mean that it's not, either."

"Did I say it did?" I lift both brows now.

"People aren't normally neutral. They're just hiding their secret allegiances." He tilts his head at me, eyes piercing all of a sudden. "It's gonna take some getting used to."

I roll my eyes and turn around. "No, it's not. I don't want you here."

"You've got a Cathar boy here." He mentions, probably staring at my back. I can feel something, like his eyes on the back of my head. "Three Mirialans, that Zabrak with the implants...other aliens. Wouldn't they benefit from being around people like them?"

Yes. But.

"They are around people like them." I flash a look over my shoulder at him. "Teaching them that they're different just because their outsides look different to each other is just opening up their minds to prejudice."

"Yeah..." He dips his head in a sort-of nod. "But also, we know how their insides work, and you don't."

I bristle and whip around. "I take them to doctors whenever I have to."

"Not those kinds of insides." He's smirking now, just a little. "That boy is just about to hit adulthood and shoot straight up. Do you even know what to tell him?"

"I'm aware of my shortcomings." I cross my arms over my chest and ignore the blush inching over my face. "I was going to find him books or something, and yes- it's not the greatest solution- but it's better than letting him think the Republic is without fault by hanging out with you."

He sighs heavily. "Look, I get it. Let them make their own decisions, it's good. But you can't make a decision in a vacuum."

I scrunch my nose. "I was going to expose them to the Republic soon, I just didn't want them exposed to patriots without some kind of buffer. Some cynics." My arms tighten. "I won't let them be manipulated into joining up when they're old enough because all they ever saw was good."

He looks irritated again. "Fine. We won't come as Republic soldiers, then."

"That's what you are." I narrow my eyes at him. "Unless you quit, that's not gonna change, is it?"

"No." He almost smiles, I can see the uptick at the edge of his mouth. "I'll always be a Republic soldier. But we can come over when we're off-duty."

"And you can promise you'll never talk about the Republic?" I deadpan. "They'll ask."

"And I'll answer them." He shifts his weight and crosses his own arms, mirroring me. "You can give whatever opinion you want, and we won't argue."

'I'm not actually considering this.' I look over my shoulder toward the house and groan internally at Morro standing in the doorway, looking curious and reluctantly irritated.

"Why do you even care?" I turn back and chew the inside of my cheek.

He tilts his head and blinks. "Do I need a reason? Okay. I'm a Patriot, you know that. What do you think I'm fighting for?"


	6. Chapter 6

It started small, but it quickly devolved into happy hour.

I'm sitting on the front steps of the house, scowling at all the soldiers inside our yard, talking to _my_ kids...

Tiarra is the only one without someone to hang out with, so she's sitting with me. I put her black hair up into pigtails, and tried to explain why there weren't any Chiss in the Republic without implying anything untoward about her species- it was difficult. The usual sentiment is that because the Chiss are full allies with the Empire, they're either just as bad as they are, or they're weak sell-outs. Among other things.

Thank god no one's said anything, I think I'd chop off some important parts of their bodies if they told Tiarra she was bad just because her race was allied with the Empire.

That same Mirialan and the Cyborg from before, they're both here. They brought others. Male and female. Zabrak, Cyborg, Mirialan, a Togruta to speak with Jon- though I don't know where they found him. They even have a female Rattataki

The two Twi'lek's they were able to find are a couple and they're enamored of Lyalla already. I wouldn't be surprised if they asked to keep her.

Maybe I'd let them. If they're suitable.

Morro is play fighting with Tormo, who's in a rarely good mood. Though they stop when Morro catches his claws on Tormo's clothes one too many times.

Jorgan kneels and holds out his hand. I squint and I can see him retracting and extending his claws. He talks to Morro, showing him a few more times until the smaller Cathar seems to figure it out. It's instinctive, of course- but it's hard to learn control of anything, let alone something that just reacts on its own.

"Miss Miri?" Tiarra leans into my side, her head resting on my thigh. "Do you think I could ever see my home planet? Momma used to talk about it."

"I'm sure you'll get there someday, Tiarra. _I_ can't take you, but when you're all grown up you can try for it." She might not be allowed to live with the Chiss for some reason. I mean, they're a cloistered people, allied with the Empire. Would they look kindly on her upbringing practically in the Republic with no Chiss around to show her how they think she should be?

She hums and curls up there, settling into stillness when I pet her hair.

I try to ignore the soldiers as much as possible while still watching them like a hawk for any anti-separatist or pro-republic sentiments. Or vice versa, as odd as that might be.

It's hard to ignore them all, and it's even harder to watch them all. Part of my agreement with the-with _Jorgan_ , is that everyone needs to be together- my kids don't need to feel segregated from each other _or_ from other species.

Lyalla sprints across the yard, kicking up dust and shrieking as Morrow chases after her. She irritates him a lot, I noticed. They're the most like siblings in my whole pack, and that's including Fweega and Freon, and the Triplets who actually _are_ siblings. They all just get along too well.

Morro snatches her dolly and takes off with it, climbing up in her tree and taunting her. She pouts and stomps her foot, climbing after him only to shriek when he jumps down and runs the other way.

It's usually at this point that Lyalla comes running to me and I either intervene because it's gone far enough or I let them work it out for themselves.

She looks at me and I raise an eyebrow. She huffs and shakes out her Lekku, toeing the ground in much the same way I do when I'm moving fast. She tackles Morro and wraps her limbs around him as he struggles, demanding her dolly back.

The adults were watching before, and now they're all holding back laughter or sighing and shaking their heads. Fuck _them_. Kids are _supposed_ to act that way.

"Morro, you know how to end it." I call out to the wriggling pile of red skin and pale brown fur.

He grunts. "Fine!"

And then he stalks off, like he usually does, and Lyalla goes back to her tree with her dolly.

I don't notice that Jorgan is standing next to the porch until he sits next to me and speaks. "Interesting approach to sibling rivalry."

"If they don't develop the skills to solve their own problems, they'll constantly look to someone else to do it." I huff. "I still have to keep reminding them I'm there to get them to act right, but eventually they won't even glance at me. Or that's my hope, anyway."

"You'd think some of 'em wouldn't respond to that." He's asking something, but I don't know what it could possibly be.

I scowl at him. "Lyalla and Morro are at odds because they're both strong personalities. Morro's got the stuff to be a bully if I don't teach him right, and Lyalla's a scrapper who'll tear you apart if you corner her. The others are all mild to some degree, though..." I grimace. "Fweega's started getting uppity lately, more than usual for someone her age. She might end up being a loner."

"Because she's uppity?" He almost seems amused, but his expression is the same stony mask as it always is when he's not pissed off or talking to Morro with that fondness on his face. "Why does that mean she's a loner?"

"Uppity people always have an inflated sense of self. People don't tend like that kind of thing." I cross my arms. "If she puts too much stock in her own skills and not enough in other people's- it'll be obvious and people will feel undervalued by her. She's not gonna make many friends unless they hang in there for a _long_ while."

"You seem to know a lot about raising kids. Ever have...any of your own?" He's hesitant with the last question and I can guess why.

"No. I just watched my own family fall apart one sibling at a time because my parents were incompetent." It's just a fact now. "Each and every one of my siblings was different, but their upbringing was the same. Lax and absentee parenting creates monsters and narcissists. You have to crack down to make them think, make them appreciate people and the things they have."

"True. But most young girls your age don't know that yet." He tilts his head at me. "You end up raising some of those siblings?"

I snort. "I was the youngest."

"So the damage was pretty much done by the time you got there." He hums. "Seems like you'd have had them wrapped around your finger anyway."

I look away and try not to smile. Making friends, having attachments or even flirting with people on Ord Mantell is a bad idea. Being friends with Jorgan is a bad idea not only because he's a Republic Soldier...but that is a _big_ whopping part of it. He could die _tomorrow_. "I was in charge, but it wasn't an easy thing...and it...didn't end well."

I think he can hear the finality in my voice, because he lets it go. Not many people do. "Well, even if it's not exactly my style- you seem to know what you're doing."

That sounds an awful lot like a compliment.

"I do." I stand up and walk into the house, Tiarra grasping my hand as I go. "Come on, we'll make lunch."


	7. Chapter 7

They did want her. The pair of soldiers. They're a married couple and they've been through their required tours, apparently.

Lyalla didn't know what adoption was, and seemed nervous to leave me. But they're leaving Ord Mantell soon. They can take her to a world where she'll grow up safe- compared to growing up here, anyway. So I left the decision up to Lyalla.

She leaves with them when they go.

It's only been a month since the soldiers have started showing up to see the kids. Lyalla is gone with her new parents, off to have a better life- and all my other kids are blossoming. Coming into their true selves, like I knew they would if I let them socialize with people other than each other.

It was always a calculated risk, though. I don't like that my triplets seem to think Wraith is such a great person. She gives me the creeps…. There's just...something wrong there.

Everyone else seems fine, even the new soldiers that have decided to come out and see the kids are agreeable to some degree. Lyalla's parents were good folks, though they'll probably spoil her too much. At least they plan to have a farm, and she'll probably learn more about earning all that spoiling than if they planned to live in a city.

I really don't like the way Needles looks at me, even still. Like he's trying to figure out how best to dissect me and which organs he wants to replace with super organs. It isn't creepy like Wraith's dead-eyed stare, but it is fucking unnerving.

"You up for another round?" Jorgan is barely sweating, or gasping for air.

I'm offended on a personal level, since I'm nearly gagging on the air I _can_ draw in. "F...u...yo..."

"What was that, kid?" He's taunting me. Smug asshole.

I lean over, grasping my knees and taking big, gulping breaths. I don't wear my armor when Jorgan's in the mood to teach me, thank the stars- I'd be dead right now.

I'm in a tank top and shorts he brought over for me to wear. All my two pairs of pants and shirts are either frayed or they have holes in them in very unseemly places so...

He's got it in his head that teaching me to fight is a good idea, and I'm not one to refuse lessons from someone who clearly outmatches me by so much. I could disembowel someone with my vibrosword, but...he wasn't wrong when he told me that it wouldn't always be at hand.

...and he disarmed me twice when I _did_ have it. With his bare hands. Ugh.

"Not. A. Kid." I enunciate that. I hate that nickname. I'm twenty years old, for god's sake.

"Maybe I should call you 'Cadet' instead?" He loves poking at that particular spike on my psyche.

"I am _never_ joining the Republic." I straighten and crack my back. "Invading planets, telling people it's for their own good." I snort and shake my head.

His brow tenses. I like to fight back, at least.

"Launching rescue operations when your allies are attacked by the Empire." He counters.

I roll my eyes. "Assuming people need rescue instead of trying to let them handle it themselves first."

"You're _trying_ to irritate me." He grunts and turns to pick up the holster belt with his blaster on it. He doesn't let anyone bring anything more than that when they visit the kids- I insisted. "Which means the lesson is over. Same time next week?"

"If you think you have more to teach me." I grumble. "It's not like I'm in any position to refuse."

"You are, but you know better." He quips, smirking just a little. The guy doesn't have much leeway in the way of emotional climate, but every once in a while it's almost obvious how he feels about just about anything.

"Ugh. Where's Morro?" He's usually watching us when we spar like this. I glance around the small patch of ground where we cleared out space to spar and frown. "When did he leave?"

"He went in the house about an hour ago." Jorgan cracks his neck and rolls his shoulders. "I think he was hungry-"

"Miss Miri!" Tiarra shouts from the back door. "Lunch is ready!"

I huff in amusement and wave her back inside. "Looks like everyone was hungry."

"We brought something good this time." He walks next to me as we walk up to the back door. "Your meat is great on its own, but it'll be better with some spices. Wraith brought some salad and-"

We walk inside and I'm accosted by six different kids wanting to make me a plate, and yanking me away from Jorgan. Tiarra, Fweega, Wima- my girls are all clustered together on one side of the room with the female adults, and on the other side are my boys and the male adults.

It looks like a sleepover with parents and kids. It looks... _normal_.

' _Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea.'_ For the kids, for their growth- for their psychological states, growing up...this seems good.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I got sidetracked and forgot to update this one, so have a triple tonight...
> 
> Sorry guys, lol

Freon's guilt is getting to be a problem.

He keeps taking stupid risks when the battles around us start up and he's supposed to go into the basement. He stays up and _counts_ heads, going out to get a triplet or to grab Jon when he freezes up. Which, okay- maybe I shouldn't discourage, but it's the disregard for his own life I'm worried about.

Trell is insisting I teach him something with a vibro knife. Jord, Tormo and Morro are all insisting on learning hand-to-hand skills from the soldiers as much as possible and even Tiarra and Fweega are becoming interested in blasters and such.

Jon and Wima are thankfully happy to be mild-mannered- though they're interested in learning about making armor and programming computers so they'll probably end up part of the war anyway. Hopefully they'll join for their own reasons and not just because it's 'right' in everyone _else's_ opinion.

"They're getting pretty good." Jorgan and Wraith are on either side of me. Watching the kids in their lessons with the adults.

Needles is teaching Fweega how to use her cybernetic parts to protect herself, or even to boost the power in her implants. She laughs when he uses a surge of electricity on the implants in the side of her face.

Jord, Tormo and Morro are all learning from the assault specialists and ground troops while Trell and Tiarra are learning to handle dummy knives and all about safe blaster care.

I wouldn't have allowed any of this if I didn't think it was safe, but it still feels wrong to teach kids combat. Even if it might save their lives- which means it's just my dumb-ass sentimentality and I should ignore it.

"Hopefully they will be capable of defending themselves from attack before long." Wraith's voice, breathy and serene, has grown on me. She's not quite as creepy anymore, since I realized she's just _calm_ all the time. "I'm sure you will fight for them capably, but being able to protect yourself can do wonders for your confidence in all areas of life."

"Yeah, I know." I press my lips together and sigh inaudibly. "It's better to know how to do something before you need it."

A glance between the two of them and Wraith walks away.

"You seem uneasy." Jorgan leans against the ridge beside me. "Something wrong?"

"I don't know." I sigh a bit more noisily this time. "I have this feeling like this is bad, but I can't pinpoint _what_ or _why_ or..." I groan in frustration and cross my arms. "The last time I felt like this, I figured out that our meat was spoiled- Wima and Fweega got so _sick_."

"You think them learning to fight could be bad?" He tilts his head at me. "Or is it that you think learning to defend themselves will summon some kind of trouble?"

I shake my head and shrug. Good reasons, but they don't make the feeling stop. "Maybe I'm just being paranoid, or maybe I just don't like that they're going to grow up so fast."

"The fact that they still act like kids at all is because of you." He grasps my shoulder and squeezes for just a moment, then lets go. He knows I don't really like physical displays of affection. It isn't so much that I don't like to be touched, but-

It's been a while since I've been touched without some kind of violent or sexual purpose behind it. I still flinch sometimes when someone who's older than thirteen gets in my personal space. Kids are easy, they aren't a threat and they couldn't possibly want anything like that from me.

Adults are the dangerous ones.

"I know that." I answer him, maybe a bit more belatedly than I should have. "It always feels like it's not enough."

"I know what you mean." He's not looking at me anymore, when I glance over. He's staring off into the distance past the kids and the soldiers. Eyes glossy and posture stiff. "One thing you got right about the Republic. People die. Constantly."

I always feel a little guilty when he talks like that. Not only do I belittle everything he believes in every time we talk, but I also belittle the beliefs of everyone he's probably ever cared about. I should feel ashamed for _that_ at the very least- even if I still don't agree with him. Maybe I should just keep my mouth shut about it.

"Up for sparring?" I ask, stepping away from the ridge. "I think I've got you this time."

His eyes get bright and attentive again as he laughs and turns to face me. "I doubt it'll go any different than last time, but I'll give you your shot."

I roll my eyes and follow him behind the house to our sparring patch. "I'm sure you'll be thinking that right up till the point I put you on your-"

"Separatists approaching!" One of the soldiers behind me is shouting and the rest of them are picking up kids and running for the house.

I sigh heavily and follow Jorgan as he runs in with the rest. They keep a watch for any Separatists up to a couple hundred meters away, so this could be nothing.

But there's a tightness in my throat that says I'm more worried than I'd like to be. _'Am I letting their prejudice color me? Just because there are Separatists around doesn't mean they'll gun straight for the Republic soldiers. They aren't beings of pure good or evil, they can't track them by the scent of self-righteousness.'_

The kids are put in the basement, the adults hunker down in the house and draw their blasters, setting them to kill instead of stun- and I can't say shit, because I let them come here in the first place and I can't demand they be defenseless just to satisfy my need to be neutral.

So I sit in the middle of the room, on top of the rug I've pulled over the basement trapdoor and wait.

The mutters aren't all that concerning at first.

"They're getting closer." "They look like they're searching for something." "Nobody left their comms on, right?" "Do we need to call for back-up?" "Nah, there's only six- we outnumber them." "We also only have blaster pistols."

But they slowly get more so.

"Is that a grenade launcher on that guy's back?" "Why are they searching this area- it's just in the middle of the territories, there's nothing valuable here. No bases of any kind." "What if they know about the kids?" "I doubt that, Miri keeps them under tighter lock and key than a jealous pirate keeps their gold." "They're getting too close, check your comms- make sure they're not tracing us."

I watch as Jorgan checks over everyone's system with a scanner, Needles examining the results.

Needles shakes his head. "Whatever they're searching for, they are not tracing us."

Jorgan growls in the back of his throat. "Then why are they out here?"

"Could be they noticed our...comings and goings." Roark, the Togruta soldier is grimacing. "There's more than one way to spot a soldier, maybe-"

"We wear civvies, we take a path around the neutral territory to get here-" Jorgan cuts off and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Miri-"

"Don't even start apologizing." I hiss. "I knew this could happen when you asked, so we're _both_ at fault. If they _are_ here because of you, I need to move the kids. Find out before you start shooting cause I'd really rather _not_ do that."

He nods and walks over to the window, standing in the frame and using his pistol scope. I'd worry they can see him if I weren't sure the ridge and the distance were enough to cloak almost anything in the house. "Six Separatists confirmed, converging on our location- Needles, you got anything we can use?"

"I have all my usual hardware, though nothing explosive." Needles hands up a small round ball. "This can knock out their communications and keep them cut off from their allies, but I would recommend throwing it while they're still on the other side of the ridge to avoid scrambling _our_ comms."

Jorgan slouches in the window and takes it, staring down at the small device. "Anything we can use to eavesdrop?"

"I suppose I could make some adjustments." Needles hooks a wire into the ball in Jorgan's hand and connects it to the cybernetics in his arm.

It seems like we're waiting for an hour before the ball is disconnected and Needles nods. "Just use the dart function of your blaster pistol to shoot it just behind and above them. They won't notice it."

'Hopefully _they won't notice, you mean.'_

I have to wait with my breath held for the next part, just to make sure the shot of the dart function on his pistol is really as silent as I was hoping it'd be.

It barely makes a whoosh. Thank the stars.

Everyone connects their comms to Needles's Cybernetics and again, I wait.

Expressions change across all their faces as they listen. Some of them favorable, some of them chagrined or outright horrified as time goes on.

Jorgan is the first to disconnect and walk to the doorway. "They noticed the house and they want to scope it out for a defensible position. The ridge makes it an ideal location to stash some troops."

"Yeah, I've had to deal with that a couple times." I shove myself to my feet and walk over to the doorway, grabbing my vibrosword in its sheath and strapping it on. "Don't so much as peek if you think they might see you, I can-"

"You shouldn't be going out there at all, let alone up against six heavily-armed assailants." Jorgan blocks my path out. "Just let us-"

"What?" I ask with a flat expression and a deep tone in my voice. "Let you 'handle' it? Let you shoot them and have a trail leading straight here for the others to follow and seek revenge when you're not around?"

His lips flatten into a line. "We can relocate you-"

"Inside Republic lines where they don't just ignore us, but gun _straight for_ the kids and me?" I glare up at him and cross my arms. "If I can send them away like every other time anyone's taken an interest in this location, they'll have no _reason_ to come back."

"She should try it her way, and we should be ready to back her up." Wraith is surprisingly on _my_ side. "If we can avoid a fight, we should. The children could stumble across the bloodstains or the bodies themselves before we can clean up or get them out of here. We should avoid traumatizing them if we can."

"I don't like this." Jorgan mutters, walking off to crouch with the other soldiers.

I walk out the door and up to the edge of the ridge, drawing my vibrosword as I go. I swing out into open space and drive the tip into the dirt in front of me.

The Separatists pause and their hands go to their weaponry, but they don't draw.

A human male with black hair and a farmer's tan steps forward with wary eyes. "How goes it, neighbor?"

"Don't 'neighbor' me." I snap and cross my arms. "I know why you people keep coming here, and the answer is still _no_. My kids need a safe place to stay and I'm not giving it to you assholes. This is all they have, leave us _alone_."

The astonished looks on their faces are familiar. They're always so surprised at my hostility and the fact that-

"There are children here?" One of the women screws up her face. "Why would you keep them in the middle of a warzone? They could be surrounded by protections in the-"

"In the Separatists camps?" I ask, angry and a little frightened. "Where the Republic frequently attacks and kills everything in sight? At least here we're neutral and both sides ignore us. Leave. Us. Be."

"We can't just leave a bunch of kids alone in the middle of a war." One of the other men asserts, stepping forward.

I stomp my foot and grab the hilt of my vibrosword. "Stay the fuck back!"

"Jorri, don't." One of the women grasps his arm. "She'll fight whether she's wrong or not."

That rankles. "Oh?" I put both hands on my hips. "And I suppose you know so much better than me? I've been here since I was eighteen. I picked up all these kids after Republic _and_ Separatist squad attacks on civilians. This ridge protects my kids from stray blaster fire, our neutrality keeps us from being a target and my ability to beat off anybody who tries to take our home is the only thing that keeps us from living on the streets. I will _not_ allow you to make my kids homeless or try to make them into future soldiers for your cause."

"Our cause is just!" One of them shouts and two others agree loudly. "We fight to free our planet!"

"Free it from what?" I look around, hands in the air. "The Republic? I don't like it any more than you do. They have no right to be here if the people don't want them-" The idiots _cheer_.

" _BUT_." I emphasize as the cheers die down. "The most that would've changed is, we'd be paying taxes to someone else and have a couple stricter laws than usual. Right now, people are dying because neither of you will back off. It takes two sides to make a war. So what, exactly." I step forward and lean in, as if imparting a secret. "Are you fighting for?"

A few of them look a little confused but the others draw themselves up.

"I don't really care what your answers are." I cut them off before they can speak. "All I want is to raise my kids, keep them safe till adulthood and not join any sides. And that Vibrosword?" I point to it. "Yeah, I know how to use it. So stay the fuck away."

"Alright." One of them puts his hands up. "No worries, we get it. We're not the Republic, we're not going to make a bunch of kids homeless."

I pick up my vibrosword and sheath it, eyeing them when they twitch and reach for their weapons again. "Don't come back."

I turn on my heel and walk back to the house, unmolested and uninjured.

The soldiers are all deathly still where they are, pressed against the walls and underneath the windows. I walk to my spot in the middle of the rug and sit down. "They leaving?" I mutter.

"Yes." Needles has a finger pressed to his ear. "But they are planning to come back."

I huff. "Do they say why?"

"They believe you are holding children against their will..." He listens for another long moment. "And they don't want the children of their planet to grow up thinking Separatists are the enemy."

"Fuck." I snap my teeth together and hug my torso tightly. "I need transport off the planet. I don't have enough credits to take all the kids yet!"

"You've been planning to get off-planet and you didn't tell us?" Wraith is almost glaring at me. "We could have paid for their tickets."

"I don't need your credits." I snap at her. "It would've been fine if I could've just kept hunting- but I had to stay here and watch you with _my_ kids. And don't give me that 'they would've been perfectly safe with us' bullshit, because I know you'd have taken the chance to move them or tell them something you thought they should know but actually _shouldn't._ " I pause for a moment and scrunch my brows together. "No, actually _do_ give me credits. I've lost an entire month and a half's worth of credit earning because of this bullshit."

"We helped your children know their heritage and taught them to defend themselves." She snaps back. "We would help them more, if you only asked-!"

"I never wanted your help in the first place!" I hiss through my teeth. "I have to make it clear to the kids that you're okay as individuals and not as soldiers- so they won't mistakenly assume the Republic is full of nice people- and don't even make that face at me because you know it's true!"

She's still making the angry face. "It's better than the Separatists. We left you alone, we didn't make this an outpost, and they plan to come back and kidnap your children and possibly _kill you_ -"

"Did I say they weren't bad!?" I lean into her space on the floor and growl. "Did I say the Republic is all bad or that the Separatists are all good? No! I say that they're _organizations_ that both have _people_ in them- and people run the spectrum!"

She settles back on her haunches and Jorgan grasps her shoulder. When she glances up, he shakes his head.

She falls silent.


	9. Chapter 9

Jorgan somehow finagles us a way off Ord Mantell with a couple of soldiers to protect us. He gets us a ship, supplies and even contacts an Orphanage on the planet we're headed to, to make sure my kids have a place to sleep when we get there.

Only.

We don't make it to the ship.

"NO!" I yank against the hands holding my arms, the legs confining mine on either side of me. Two large men holding me still between them as my kids are hauled away from me, kicking and screaming my name.

Two soldiers lay dead on the ground where the Separatists ambushed us.

"Did you think we'd leave a bunch of kids with a Republic bitch? Teaching our own children to fear and hate us?" The leader, the same man with dark hair and a farmer's tan as the other day.

"What the FUCK are you talking about!?" I shout and struggle against their hold. "I'm not REPUBLIC, and even if I were-"

SMACK!

"Don't lie to me, it's bad for your health." He drawls, waving his hand a bit to take off the sting after backhanding me.

I glare at him. "You talking about the soldiers who invaded my home and wouldn't take no for an answer? What the hell was I supposed to do?" I snap a little on the inside. "If I'd fought them, I'd be in the same place I am now! With them assuming I'd chosen sides against them, taking my kids and SMACKING ME AROUND!"

He rolls his eyes at me. "I'm so _sure_ you're the type to lie back and take it-"

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!?" I scream in his face and he flinches back in surprise. "Fighting when there are kids around? Are you brain dead!?"

"Fuck, just knock her out already." He flicks his hand over his shoulder and stops when he sees Tiarra. An expression that I recognize flickers over his face.

I dodge away from a blow to the back of my head and shout. "Wait! Wait! Let me take Tiarra, you don't want a Chiss- I'll let you take the others, just give me-" I can get the others back later, if I have to sneak and steal them back.

"No, I don't think so." He turns and grabs her, yanking her over to him and drawing his blaster pistol. "An Imperial on Ord Mantell? Who were your parents? Did they kill anyone before you got picked up by a Republic dog?"

She's crying, tears streaming down her face as he squeezes her arm. "I don't know!" She sobs.

"I found her when she was nine!" I struggle against their hold again. "She was starving and alone, just let me have her!"

"That's the thing about you Republic types." He scoffs. "You hate Imperials, but you don't have the balls to put 'em down- that's why the war is never gonna end out there. That's why you need to take over all the smaller worlds and soak up their resources-"

A flashing light flickers off a nearby container.

"Tiarra, close your eyes." I sag in their arms. "Close your eyes and listen to me, it's gonna be okay."

He sneers and presses the blaster to her temple. "You think you're getting out of this bitch? Once we're done finding homes for the kids you _stole_ , we're gonna take our trouble outta your hide-"

And then a blaster bolt hits him between the eyes and he crumples.

"DUCK AND ROLL!" I shout.

My kids all duck down and try to break free of the people holding them. Some of their captors get shot, some of them let go to focus on the Republic soldiers converging on our location and some of them get yanked up into the remaining Separatist's arms and dragged away screaming.

The two idiots holding on to me try to grab me, but one of them gets shot and I kick the other in the crotch with my knee, then drop, roll and come up on my feet and _lunge_ for the nearest kid I can get my hands on.

Which just so happens to be Tiarra and Tormo, hiding together behind a crate.

Tucking them under each arm, I dart between cover as the remaining Separatists and the Republic soldiers fight, and my free kids run in a herd around me to the 'safe' side.

I drop Tiarra and Tormo, do a headcount and realize I'm missing Morro, Freon and Wima.

"Jorgan!?" I glance around the cover and spot him up in a sniper position above the action. Everyone's stopped shooting. "Did they get away?"

"They're still going, ducking into cover on their way. I'll keep firing, aiming away from them. They'll move slower. Wraith is ghosting behind them, the rest of you converge but keep your blaster pistols on stun- don't shoot unless you've got a clear shot and no kids are in the way."

I stay with the kids, because- well, what the hell else can I do? Get myself shot in the process of trying to save them? Get _them_ shot because I'm too stupid to know how to do this kind of thing?

"Everybody hold hands, you hear me? Hold hands, close your eyes and hum." I settle everyone against some crates and hum with them while they bow their heads and try to hide their faces in each other's throats and chests, clustering together-some of them still crying.

"No!" Jorgan jumps down from his perch and my blood runs cold. He rushes out of cover, drawing his pistol, putting away his rifle and _running._

"Fuck." Something's happening and I can't do anything. Something's happened and there's nothing I can do. The kid all lean in my direction when the curse slips out, arms wrapping around me, little hands clinging to my arms and in the folds of my clothes.

"Miri, I need you to come. Stay with them." Jorgan is back and giving orders to both me and one of his grunts.

They kneel and start murmuring comforting words to the kids as I dart to my feet and out to where Jorgan is waiting for me. "What happened?"

"Morro." His tone and the stony expression on his face are enough to assure me something horrible has happened. "Needles stabilized him, but he needs medical care. We've already called for a transport."

I fall silent and walk faster, and faster, until I'm sprinting out of the shipping area and into the open street beyond.

There's a crowd convening now that the Separatists are all dead. All of them looking at my kid, lying on the ground, bleeding and still.

Freon is holding Wima, she seems to be sobbing but her face is buried in his throat and I can't hear anything. They're both away from Morro, a soldier standing in their way, blocking their view of him.

My boy is bleeding around a couple of pieces of metal which seem to be holding him together. A large bandage-looking panel around his side and another clamped around one side of his throat and shoulder.

"Morro." I fall to my knees and bury my fingers in the fur around his ears. No blood on his head, no injuries there.

Needles shifts closer. "Don't jostle his neck."

I nod and press my lips together, reminding myself that he _needs_ to be telling me what to do- he's more a medic than I am. "What happened? How'd he get hit?" If my voice is more gravelly and weak than it should be, no one mentions it.

His beautiful blue-black eyes are shut. They shouldn't be shut.

Jorgan steps up behind me, but doesn't approach. Good, because I honestly don't know how I'd react right now. "They aimed for Wima. Freon tackled her, Morro tried to attack the shooter...got shot in his shoulder, and some of his neck. His side...that was someone else trying to aim at one of my soldiers- he was in their shot when he pounced."

I've never taken sides in the war on Ord Mantell. I've never felt the need to. It isn't my fight, and both sides are wrong, so why even think about getting involved?

I still don't think the Republic is right, and I still don't think the Separatists are _all_ monsters.

But I was unable to do anything. I had no influence, had no weapons that could stand up to them, couldn't stop a complete bloodbath from happening...

"Mi...Mir..." Morro's eyes have opened, and he blinks them at me. "Mirr..."

"Sh." I pet his fur, rubbing his ears with my fingers the way that always relaxes him when he's sick or sad. "The transports coming, you're gonna go to a medical tent. You'll be okay." Whether or not it's true, what else can I say?

"Course he is." Jorgan goes down on one knee to look at Morro, next to me. "He's a tough guy, he'll pull through. Just don't stop fighting, kit."

Morro blinks, sluggishly. "Ma..."


	10. Chapter 10

Morro's been transferred on a shuttle off-world to Coruscant.

Jorgan didn't tell me the orphanage was on Coruscant, but hell. Republic Soldier. Probably thinks it's the safest place in the whole damn galaxy. After the sacking, I'm sure they cracked down on the law enforcement and everything.

My big nitpick is it's _Coruscant,_ The Capital of the Republic? But at least it's relatively peaceful here. Maybe the younger kids will forget about Ord Mantell and the older kids...maybe they'll just decide it's easier to be civilians.

But I know better than that.

I said goodbye to the other kids this morning. There was a lot of crying and clinging and screaming when the attendants had to drag them away from me.

I reach up and rub away another stubborn tear and inhale deeply as I look down at Morro. Still unconscious after his surgeries and supposed to stay that way another few days while he heals.

My kids are all gone. My Fweega, my Tiarra. My Freon and Jon. Well, not mine. Not anymore. Not ever, really. Just a bunch of kids I picked up and claimed as my own, protected and cared for...but not mine.

That's the part that really kills me. That I had to realize that. I could've kept them all with me for years longer and I just would've been, well- their mom. _'Is that what I wanted, or just what I was willing to be for them?'_

I can't tell. My wants and needs never seemed important compared to theirs. What do I want out of life? To be a mother? To be an entrepreneur, a chef, a waitress, a hunter- what? And how to get what I want when I've got no education or training whatsoever?

' _Except military training, technically.'_ I huff in exasperation at myself. _'Sure, I'll just sign up and join the Republic Military. Get trained to use big guns, kill people on worlds like Ord Mantell who just want to be left alone and who fight for the right to_ be _.'_

Or...

' _Or I could join the Republic to learn to use big guns, and_ save _people on worlds like Ord Mantell_ from _the Republic.'_ I could keep an eye on them from the inside, shove men aside if they were aiming at the wrong people- step in front of those people if necessary. I'd have the training and the strength and the know-how to back up my convictions for once.

My eyes flick to Morro.

' _I could protect anyone I might care about in the future.'_

Hell, I could actually afford a secure home for the kids, I could get them back-

But. They could have actual families. Except Tiarra, of course. Tiarra, I could probably get her back- there aren't many Chiss in the Republic at all. The other kids might even be picking on her right now.

…did I just make a decision? Just like that? It shouldn't be so simple. So easy.

I should take longer to decide, I think. But…there's no real time left for anything if I want to get this done within a certain time frame.

….…

Two Months Later

"Hey guys!" I walk in the front door with my kit slung over my shoulder. "You made dinner yet? I brought home take-out."

"Mama!" Tiarra rushes out of her room and down the hall. "Morro said you wouldn't be home for another week."

I scoop her up and squeeze my daughter until she makes a small 'oof' noise. "I got accepted into a new program, so let they let me come home for a while before I get deployed."

My daughter. God, the novelty still hits me sometimes.

"Ma," Morro walks out of his own room, looking surly as always. "You said you've got food?"

"Yeah and I'll throw in a cookie or two if you can gimme a hug, Mor." I lift a brow and hold out the take-out bag.

He rolls his eyes and utters a put-upon sigh. But he walks over to hug me.

He knows he'd get a cookie anyway.

"So where are you going next? How long will you be gone- will we still have to go to school?" Tiarra asks as we all walk into the kitchenette to eat. "I don't like school. Jon's the only person there we know since everybody else got adopted," she pouts.

"You don't wanna leave Jon all alone, do you? He needs you to look out for him." I say with a smile. "And Morro'd be sad if he didn't have his sister in school with him, wouldn't he?"

Morro grunts irritably as he takes one of the bowls of Aric tongue salad out of the bag. Apparently Jorgan was named after whatever the hell an Aric is and Morro can't get enough of its tongue. Ick. Maybe it's a Cathar thing?

"I'm gonna be deployed in two weeks, back to Ord Mantell." I shrug at their expressions, "I don't choose my assignments. Apparently my new outfit's been working out of Ord Mantel for a while."

"Do you think we knew any of them?" Tiarra asks while chomping into one of her noodle dishes.

"Not sure. My commanding officer's name is Harron Tavus- never heard of _him_." Rolling my eyes, I sit at the table and take out a plate of teriyaki chicken. "My luck he'll be as stiff as Jorgan without the dry sense of humor."

"He called," Morro mutters. "He's _been_ calling."

I snort, "getting impatient?"

"We keep telling him you said not to say where you were working so he couldn't 'drop by' or whatever- he's starting to buy it less and less, I think." Morro is so smart it shocks me sometimes. Just on the precipice of turning thirteen and he already understands people better than some adults. "You need to call him back before he really decides to come by and see what you're hiding."

"Ugh. No way. If I tell him I'm in the Republic, I can just imagine the smug grin on his face." I wrinkle my nose.

"Just tell him you have a job running errands or something," Tiarra says, then gulps her fruit juice. Something arctic and sweet from the Chiss home planet…what was it called again?

"Ugh. Fiiine, I'll call the jackass." I don't have to watch my swears around them, they're not so young they haven't heard it. One good thing about not having my littles around, I don't have to worry about screwing them up anymore. Tiarra and Morro can watch out for each other, for themselves…I don't worry so much about them.

The Republic took me eagerly and my first paycheck was used to rent out a small one bedroom apartment. I adopted Tiarra while Morro was still in the hospital and settled her in there. She still had to go to school with those other kids, but she had a safe haven.

The other kids still had a chance to get adopted- though Jon had a smaller chance than any of them but Tiarra. I offered to take him too, but he wanted access to the Orphanage library. Funny how well-stocked it is. Soldiers bringing kids home, gotta make everything look good at least, right?

I shouldn't still be so bitter toward the Republic, but it's hard to drop the habit.

After Morro got out of the hospital, I rented a two-bedroom, put them both in the only two rooms and got a pull-out couch to sleep on.

I'm going to be away more than I'm home anyway.

The only reason we're still in contact with Jorgan is because he was right about Morro. He'll have an easier time teaching him what it is to be Cathar than I will. So, after dinner, I'll call the grumpy orange Cathar and tell him I've got an entry-level job that won't make him suspicious and hope to god he's nowhere near my posting on Ord Mantell.

He's probably moved on by now, right? Soldiers do that.


	11. Chapter 11

So, the crash-landing was unexpected. Shouldn't have been, but I really expected my journey to Ord Mantell to be as smooth as my exit last time. Things must have gotten worse.

A blaster bolt nearly smacks me in the temple but I duck underneath it, then pelt full-tilt toward the guy with the blaster.

I dodge in a zig-zag pattern and he begins firing wildly to try and hit me. So I jump, duck and roll to the side, then come up on my feet and lunge at the sonofabitch when I feel my weight hit my toes.

He goes down with a scream and his neck makes a crude popping noise when I break it.

He's the last one out here on the street and I've just got a whole other wave to wade through before I can even report to my new CO.

"Rrgh." I growl and flop on the ground, gasping for air as every muscle in my body protests at the rough treatment. "Fucking Separatists and Fucking Republic-"

" _Careful_ _ **,**_ _you_ _ **are**_ _Republic now, Kitten._ " Gearbox still hasn't signed off.

"I can't fuckin' believe that loudmouth Cathar told all of Ord Mantell about me," I huff.

" _To be fair to the loudmouth, it was a hell of a story._ " He quips.

"Ugh. What next?" I groan and roll over, pushing myself up on my shaking arms.

" _Straight shot to Fort Garnik now. Time to meet the new team, Kitten._ "

"Fuck you, Gear." I retort. He calls me 'kitten' because of Aric and I'm never gonna live it down if other people hear him calling me that.

" _On your feet, kid. Come on. Prove to me you're Havoc material._ "

"Don't need to prove anything to anyone," I huff and shake out my arms and legs. "I'm goin', alright?"

The Forces from Avilatan's rest are dispersing, taking up defensive positions, so it's safe to go. They'll have a better chance at defending themselves now.

So I head for the fort.

Doesn't take long, all things considered. A short jaunt, just long enough for me to eat some energy bars, drink some water from my canteen and stretch a little before walking into the Republic command center or whatever the fuck it's called. I can't be bothered to remember.

"Ah…you must be the new recruit." A man with a dark head of almost-shaved hair and a bushy mustache greets me as I walk in the door. "Been waiting on you a while."

"Walker got shot with missiles, had to liberate a village…you know how it is," I shrug.

He chuckles and shakes his head, "I suppose I do. You met Gearbox, so let me introduce you to the rest of the-"

"Wraith!?"

"Miri?"

"Ah, good to see you again."

"Fucking Needles, too!?"

"Oh, hey!"

"Fuse!?"

"I see you know the squad already," there's a question in his voice.

"Fuck all of you, nobody better say shit to him!" I point at them all.

Wraith gets the coldest, most devious smile on her face. "Oh trust me, we won't have to."

That was cryptic and alarming. But she must just mean scuttlebutt, right? Fuck, I hope so.

"Alright, so you know Fuse, Needles and Wraith…" Fuse was one of the Zabrak who used to hang with Freon and Fweega- teaching them about their culture. He never stood out to me. Sweet guy with a cute face but not much else to him.

"Got one more introduction to make…" Thankfully my CO, Tavus doesn't seem to be as much a stick in the mud as I feared. Must be a benefit of being Special Ops or something. Maybe the universe likes me more than I thought.

"Lieutenant Aric Jorgan, Ord Mantell Infantry-" Tavus says, turning to gesture toward someone behind me.

"THE UNIVERSE HATES ME," I say loudly as I hear the name and spot the orange-furred Cathar walking toward us.

He's paused in the middle of the floor, wide-eyed for a moment. And then-

"DON'T YOU SMIRK AT _ME_ , ARIC JORGAN!"

"Ah, you know Jorgan." Tavus is looking on quizzically as Jorgan smirks and crosses his arms and I glare at the smug asshole. "That's…good."

"What was it you said to me when you left Ord Mantell?" Jorgan's teeth show in a grin as he speaks.

"Shut up," I point at him and narrow my eyes.

"Wasn't it something like 'I'll never join the Republic, but keep dreaming asshole'?" He asks, one hand on his chin as his eyes glimmer with wry wit.

"I hate you." I say lowly, glaring at him and crossing my arms. "I'm just…fuck you!"

He laughs so loud I think the whole fort can hear him, "don't be a sore loser, _Cadet_."

"I thought she was a Sergeant?" I can hear Fuse mutter in confusion behind me.

I can also hear the rest of them snickering. Well, not Needles. Needles isn't really the snicker _type_. He does seem to be coughing into his fist a lot, though.

"Oh you're _all_ on my shit list." I turn and glower at my new squad. "This is humiliating enough as it is, assholes."

"Humiliating?" Tavus is standing next to Jorgan, looking completely perplexed and shocked. Looking to the Cathar for answers.

"She's a neutralist, so to speak." Jorgan says, smirk still slightly curving his mouth. "Swore up and down the Republic and the Separatists are the same-"

"They are!" I cross my arms and _pout_ , damn it. "I'm only here to save lives, not to push some agenda."

"What do you think _I_ do here, Sergeant?" Jorgan questions coolly.

"Fuck if I know," I retort. "Why aren't you in your armor? You only wore civvies because I _demanded_ you not wear armor."

"I was working as support for Havoc before you got here," he responds. "Snipers are handy for all kinds of things."

"Jorgan gets a break from field work and we get to test you out before taking you for a real spin," Tavus says.

The Cathar has a grumpy look on his face almost always, but after the bright smirks and grins and the laughter it's shocking to see the planes of his face harden at the mention of field work.

( _If they ever put me behind a desk, I'll be chomping at the bit for an attack on the base. It feels wrong to wish for that but I just can't imagine not doing my job._ ) His voice echoes from a few months in the past. Back when the Kids were still all mine and he and I were still on rocky ground.

Well hell, we're not stable _now_ , but…

"So, now that I know you've already met everyone…"


	12. Chapter 12

"Hey," Jorgan walks over to me in the corner. "Bellis wasn't your fault."

"I know that," I respond. My head is bowed over my lap and my forearms are pressed to my thighs. "Doesn't mean it doesn't… _suck_."

He sits on the bench next to me, I can feel the warmth radiating off of him. Guy's like a miniature sunbeam. "Yeah, I get that."

So we sit in silence for a moment, both of us looking back on that whole situation, I'm sure. It only happened yesterday, but it feels…so present.

Bellis's wife yelled at me. I couldn't even say anything to her. I just told her I would be able to leave if she gave me the field box, and that she would never _have_ to talk to the Republic again if she did. She was enraged that I wanted anything from her, but she gave it to me to get me to leave.

"So you're going to talk to an informant next…" Jorgan doesn't like to dwell on bad things, or so I'm learning. He's the 'keep moving' type, just like the rest of the soldiers I've met. They have to be, right?

"Mirru, yeah." I sigh and dip my head. "So our people already made a horrible impression and now I've got to make nice with yet another person who hates the Republic now."

"Look, I know you're not seeing us at our best." He braces his forearms on his thighs and leans over, tilting his head and staring at me with those vivid gold-on-green eyes. "But this is all part of what it means to be a soldier. People die and sometimes you gotta deal with hostile informants- but we do it for the people who need our protection."

"Why do you think I joined up to begin with?" I ask dully.

"I was hoping you'd warm up to the Republic eventually, but I never expected you to join up." He says. "At least, not so fast."

"I needed to take care of Morro and Tiarra. This is a job with benefits. Even if I die out here, they'll be taken care of. I made sure of it." I blink at the floor and glance up at him. "I didn't like the idea of doing anything else. This was just…the least objectionable option."

"I get that you don't think much of the Republic," he shifts next to me and looks away at the wall opposite us with faraway eyes. "But I can promise you, if you open up your eyes and really _see_ what it's all about…you won't regret it."

"I know you really believe that…but the only thing here I have any faith in is you." I respond.

He looks at me with surprise for a moment, "didn't think _we'd_ gotten that far yet either."

"Can't keep mistrusting someone when you know what they're all about, it doesn't work that way with me." I look away from him. "We're still not best friends, but I at least know where you stand."

He chuckles, "sure."

"Now…can I turn off my armor cam if I think approaching Mirru as a civilian will work better?" I ask.

"You can wear civvies, but the armor cam stays," he says with a quirk to his mouth. "I have to observe you until I can give a full accounting of your abilities since leaving boot camp. It's…" He squints and his eyes dart away and then back. "It's a little odd that they've assigned you to Havoc straight out of boot camp, you know that, right?"

"Yeah I thought it was weird," I respond with a frown. "Is it like… _really_ strange?"

"You've got a lot of raw talent, so I wouldn't say it's _that_ strange…just not usual." He shrugs and smirks, "I told you if you joined up you could be something. Just didn't think the 'something' would be Havoc Squad."

I huff and lean enough over to nudge his arm with mine, "I don't think anyone could've seen this coming, not even a Jedi- I easily could've just decided to be a waitress or delivery girl or something."

"That doesn't sound like you," he says with a small upward bend to his mouth. Not quite a smile, "a bouncer in a club or an enforcer for a small-time mobster, maybe."

I elbow him and he chuckles like it's surprised out of him, shoving my arm back. "Ass," I pout.

"You should get out there and find Mirru," he says with a small smile. "I'll be here at the Fort, watching your back."

"Technically you'll be watching my front, back and sides. How do you focus on four screens at once?" I ask as I stand up.

He follows suit and we walk toward the front door together. "I watch for movement, when I see it, I warn you. It's more of an instinctive response than anything calculated. You'll get this job sooner or later and figure it out."

… … … …

" _Is that really necessary?_ " Aric's deadpan voice is almost enough to make me bust out laughing.

"So you went to the fort to tell them?" I say sympathetically while batting my eyelashes. "That's so nice of you."

"Yeah I was _tryin'_ to do them a solid, but they beat me up and threw me out on the street!" Mirru complains, bright red Lekku twitching and reminding me of Lyalla so _much_.

I touch his arm and squeeze, "that sounds horrible! What were you trying to tell them about, anyway? Some kind of bomb, you said?"

He nods and relaxes into the bench next to me, smiling in that way guys do when they wanna entice pretty girls. Welcoming and engaging and open. "I don't wanna talk about that, can't we get better acquainted?"

"Well it's just-" I bite my lip and flush, "I really don't wanna stumble into a bombing or anything-"

"Oh you've got nothin' to worry about, it's way over on the other side of the cliffs." He gestures vaguely toward some cliffs that are entirely too close for comfort. "Whoever they were, they're gonna bomb some convoy or something…"

" _There's a convoy going through there in a few_ _ **minutes**_ _\- get down there and defuse those bombs, Sergeant._ " The agitation in Jorgan's voice is the only reason I don't ignore him. I'm military now, I'm gonna have to get used to this. And he sounds really worried.


	13. Chapter 13

“I’m fine, Aric.” I say for the fifth time today. “It’s barely anything.”

The Cathar is pacing back and forth on the other side of the med-bay, where the Medic demanded he go or he’d be thrown out. “This is why soldiers don’t go incognito, anywhere-- that’s how the SIS operates, not frontline Troopers.”

The medic patching me up has pretty much given up on trying to stop us from talking or arguing. I insist he stays and Aric doesn’t want to go so she can’t kick him out the second he gets growly.

So I kinda got shot by a bunch of the guys trying to ambush the convoy. And also blown up by one of the bombs they shot and it went off…but I was behind cover at the time so I only got a little shrapnel’d.

“Well I know that now, don’t I?” I reply with a little huff of irritation. “Look, I get it, I’m your responsibility and I got injured, can you just chill for a minute while I get my wounds bandaged?”

He stops and looks at me, then away, rubbing his face with one of his hands. “I-. Yeah, sorry.”

“I need you to teach me how you did that,” the medic mutters. She’s a bright yellow Twi’lek with gorgeous dark brown patterning on her lekku. “When anyone goes out with Jorgan he’s just insufferable if they come back with injuries.”

“I’m not that bad,” Aric puts his hands on his hips.

I snort, “you are so that bad. Where’s Needles, anyway? Isn’t he supposed to be doing the whole medic-thing for me now that I’m Havoc squad?”

“I don’t think that’s such a great idea,” Jorgan says--  
“I think you’d prefer to keep me,” the medic says at the same time.

They glance at each other and then at me.

I lift both eyebrows, “oh I gotta hear this.”

“His bedside manner just…leaves a few things to be desired,” the medic says. I can’t remember her name...

And then Aric scoffs, “he treats patients like experiments.”

Sounds like Needles. What I’ve known of him, anyway. “So long as he doesn’t experiment on me against my will, I don’t mind his creepiness. It’s the same way-” I cut off and look down, “it just seems like a lot of scientists are like that. Their lives, the world, is an experiment.”

Them knowing anything about my past is not going to help anyone. As it is, I gave the recruiter a different surname that I had to purchase from an underground Visa network. Good work, too.

‘I can still remember the cold, distant look on his face-’ Shutting down that line of thought and moving on, I hop off the medical cot and stretch a little, careful not to pull at my injuries too much. “Can I get going back to work now?”

“Today? Stars, no.” The medic says with a little frown. “You need to rest for at least two days with kolto treatments twice daily.”

"Agh, come on doc..." I whine. "I'll come back for the kolto, but these beds are uncomfortable."

"No vigorous activity, I mean it." She points her little datapen at me and turns to walk off toward the other end of the room, opposite Jorgan.

He walks over with silent footsteps and I marvel at his ability to be stealthy automatically even when he's obviously freaked out and in distress. "You've gotta teach me how you do that." I say with a gesture at his feet as he comes closer.

He pauses long enough to glance down and then chuckles as he walks the rest of the way over to me. "Years of intensive training, cadet."

I purse my lips at the pet name, "you're worse than Gearbox." As soon as it's out of my mouth, I wanna take it back.

He tilts his head and squints at me a little, "what does Gearbox do to irritate you?"

"I said nothing," I open and then close my mouth, lips rolled inward and giving the impression that I am permanently taking a vow of silence.

He laughs again, "I could just ask him."

I pout, lips pushing out of my mouth. "Ass."

His laughter is a low rumble that dwindles after a moment-- but in the moment, my spine tingles and I feel something under my skin...light up. It's a confusing sensation that just makes my brows furrow and my shoulders hunch.

"You alright?" he grasps my shoulders and looks down at me with an intent expression. "Want me to get-"

"I'm fine," I step back out of his grip and chew my bottom lip. "I'm worried about the ZR-57. What if we don't find it in time?" It's the only excuse I can come up with. Maybe that really is what’s bothering me? Maybe...but I don’t think so.

“If we don’t find it, it’ll be used against us, so that’s not an option.” He responds with an intense look down at me from under his brows.

I shiver a little in my spine and I feel relief that it might just be me being uncomfortable with his usual intensity. That’s familiar, at least.

“So do we have any new leads?” I ask.

He sighs, “have a feeling if I tell you, the doc will shiv me with a laser scalpel.”

“Damn straight!” the doctor’s voice echoes from her office, not all that far away.


End file.
